Yank

“Tug on anything at all and you'll find it connected to everything else in the universe.” - John Muir 

 

Maeve is a yanker.  She will get ahold of a lock of hair, a button, glasses, her toy basket, really anything, and yank away.  I had this lovely post on here about her grasping, holding onto things, how precious it was, but it has led to this violent obsession: grab and pull.

 

I know it's developmental, I know it's a good thing, but boy, can this girl yank!  The two words I wish she understood right now are "let go" because I say them about fifty times a day, to no avail.  "Let go, honey, those are Mom's glasses," "Let go, sweetheart, that hair's gonna stay on my head," "Let go of the spoon, Mom's in charge of feeding you."

Yesterday while I was letting her roll around on the floor, I had one of those mom-instinct moments: it was quiet, in fact, it was too quiet.  I stood up to check on Maeve, and saw that she had pulled the comforter off our ottoman and onto herself, which luckily had nothing heavier on it than a kleenex.  Which she was messily devouring.

Note to self: put nothing heavy on top of the comforter on the ottoman.

Caught in the act.